"Well, I don' know what you're all laughin' at nor what you mean," said the object of their merriment; "but I should uncommonly like to know."
"Tell him, Lois," cried Madge, "what a dinner in New York is like. You never did tell him."
"Well, I'm ready to hear," said the old gentleman. "I thought a dinner was a dinner; but I'm willin' to learn."
"Tell him, Lois!" Madge repeated.
"It would be very stupid for Mrs. Barclay," Lois objected.
"On the contrary!" said that lady. "I should very much like to hear your description. It is interesting to hear what is familiar to us described by one to whom it is novel. Go on, Lois."
"I'll tell you of one dinner, uncle Tim," said Lois, after a moment of consideration. "All dinners in New York, you must understand, are not like this; this was a grand dinner."
"Christmas eve?" suggested uncle Tim.
"No. I was not there at Christmas; this was just a party. There were twelve at table.
"In the first place, there was an oval plate of looking-glass, as long as this table—not quite so broad—that took up the whole centre of the table." Here Lois was interrupted.